I grew up in an era when one loss could potentially end a championship run, two for sure. If your team slipped up in October or November, your chances at playing for a national title was in the hands of others. Every Saturday felt like an elimination game, and fans lived and died on every possession.
That era is over and has been for years now, but Thursday’s news brought a whole new level. The College Football Playoff is nearing a deal to expand to 24 teams by 2027, pending final approvals. The playoff started with four teams after the 2014 season. It went to 12 in 2024. Now it’s doubling again, just two seasons later.
The message to fans is different now. Relax, your team can afford a couple of losses, maybe three, and still have a shot at the title. A bad Saturday in October or November used to bring monumental stress. Now it’s barely a talking point by the next week.
For those of us who came up through the polls deciding things, then the BCS, it feels like a different sport. The game on the field is still the game. But the people running it have lost the plot.
It’s about the money
College football keeps chasing change for one reason, and it’s money. Every major decision in the sport over the last several years has come back to who gets paid and how much. The playoff is just the latest example.
It’s why programs with historically great venues have found ways to input premium areas that cater to deep-pocketed supporters. Which have in turn inflated the price for diehards who’ve worn the colors for decades, and caused them to pay up or lose their season tickets. It’s why NIL dominates every conversation and why there are ads on jerseys now.
And it’s exactly why we’re getting a 24-team playoff. Look at how this deal came together. Nobody was really debating what’s best for the sport. They were negotiating numbers.
ESPN already holds a six-year, $7.8 billion deal for the playoff that runs through the 2031-32 season. That wasn’t enough. According to CBS Sports’ Brandon Marcello, the biggest sticking point for conference commissioners was replacing the money they’d lose by eliminating their championship games, which are worth nearly $250 million combined. CFP executives were expected to ask for $70 million to $80 million on top of that, putting the potential new money at more than $320 million a year.
Even the SEC, which publicly held out for 16 teams, appears to be on board now. Greg Sankey raised concerns about scheduling and the value of the regular season, but he was also clear that the economics had to work, including what happens to the SEC Championship Game and the revenue that comes with it. From the outside, it’s hard not to notice that 24 teams became acceptable once the money lined up.
And when the extra cash arrives, don’t expect it to be split evenly. Under the current arrangement, the Big Ten and SEC each take about 29% of CFP revenue, compared with roughly 17% for the ACC and 15% for the Big 12. The rich get richer.
What gets lost
Conference championship games are the first thing on the chopping block. Under the proposed model, there’s no real reason to keep them around, and the people covering the sport closely know it. CBS Sports’ John Talty was blunt about their future. “They’re gonna be gone.”
The proposed model includes 23 at-large spots and one guaranteed spot for the Group of Six, with no automatic bids for conference champions.
Winning your conference used to be the whole goal. It meant something to fans, to players and to the coaches who built those teams. Now it guarantees you nothing, and a team that loses in its league could end up seeded right alongside the one that won it.
December changes, too. The playoff would start the second week of the month, and talks have even included moving Army-Navy up a week, to the date traditionally reserved for conference title games. Tradition is getting moved around for TV.
The regular season loses its edge as well. Big Ten commissioner Tony Petitti argues otherwise, pointing to teams ranked between 16 and 24 that would be fighting just to get in.
That’s true, as far as it goes. But fighting for the 22nd seed is a long way from fighting to stay alive. Nobody’s going to remember the November game that decided who got the final at-large spot. People still talk about the one-loss teams that got left out in the BCS days. Or even the undefeated 2004 Auburn team that was left out. Talk about a different time in college football.
College football has become too much like the NFL. The regular season was always what set the college game apart, because every week carried weight. A 24-team field takes most of that away and leaves a sport that looks a lot like the one it used to be different from.
Nobody’s listening, and they don’t have to
The reaction to the news has been loud. Kevin Clark summed up the frustration well, arguing that the sport gave up the best regular season in sports just so 8-4 Big Ten teams can get blown out in the playoff. Plenty of fans agree.
None of it is going to matter. The commissioners and TV partners have heard fans complain before, and they’ve watched those same fans keep showing up. The people making these decisions know exactly how much fan complaints are worth: nothing. The same fans shouting about expansion today will be in the stands next fall, wallets open, buying tickets for a first-round playoff game between two four-loss teams.
Nobody can force you to keep supporting your program financially. Fans have every right to walk away if they don’t like where the sport is headed. But how many would actually say, “No thanks, I’ll watch at home”?
That’s the leverage the sport is counting on. And until fans are willing to use theirs, college football will keep changing for whoever’s writing the biggest check, not for us.
